


Pictures

by pjlover666



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pjlover666/pseuds/pjlover666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bluestreak likes to take pictures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pictures

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Pictures  
> Rating: T  
> 'verse: AU, G1  
> Characters: Prowl, Jazz and Bluestreak  
> Warnings: None  
> Summary: Bluestreak likes to take pictures.  
> Disclaimer: TF doesn't belong to me.  
> AN: Bluestreak's been in my head for a while now. This is the result.

A lot of mechs thought they knew Bluestreak, but they didn't. They only knew that he liked to talk and no one ever bothered to get to know the gunner more thoroughly. Except for a select few, no one knew the gray mech had a hobby of taking pictures. Little image-captures when no one was looking.

And one night, when Bluestreak was feeling restless, haunted by memories, he did like he always did – he looked at the pictures he had taken, enjoying their silliness. But that night it was different. Because that night he took notice to the background of said pictures and his vents stalled when realization came.

Apparently, when they thought no one was looking, their SIC and TIC were gently holding hands. They weren't even facing each other, one engaged in a conversation with Mirage, the other simply sipping his energon. Hands clasped together under the table.

Curios by his discovery, Bluestreak pulled out all of his pictures since landing here on Earth and noticed what he had always overlooked – Prowl and Jazz in the background.

In the picture of Bumblebee and Cliffjumper playing a TV game, there, at the far corner stood Prowl, with Jazz's hand gently petting a door-wing. Or on a different picture of a party, where everyone, including Bluestreak, were occupied laughing at the rarely drunk Ratchet, no one saw that Jazz was sitting alone, or the reassuring grip on his arm as Prowl was handing him a cube.

And there was a picture, after a particularly difficult battle, how half the crew was sitting outside the med bay, waiting for news on their Prime, Bluestreak had taken an image capture of their unity, accidentally catching Jazz resting his head on Prowl's shoulder as the Praxian was gently holding the visored mech.

Bluestreak frowned. How could he have not seen them? How could _no one_ from the crew have? But then, in the darkness off his quarters that didn't seem so frightening anymore, the gunner's frown grew into a soft smile. He knew how to talk, but he also knew how to keep his mouth shut. He would keep their secret, it was the least he could do.

A couple of weeks later, after a short skirmish that was surprisingly brutal, left Jazz in the med bay. Bluestreak was there because he had suffered damage to his leg but as a non-emergent, he just waited there on a berth, trying not to get in the way.

Prowl was there as well, Wheeljack working on his shoulder as Ratchet was treating the more severe patient, this time being Jazz.

"Alright Prowl. You're good to go for now. I know the Prime is waiting for you in his office for the report." The Praxian nodded, but the small twitch of his wings told Bluestreak something else entirely. He watched as Prowl stood, watched how hard the SIC tried and failed not to look at Jazz. And when Ratchet let loose a plethora of curses, Bluestreak knew it was sheer will alone that Prowl stood his ground instead of rushing over to Jazz's side.

The gunner acted before he could think.

"Uhm, Prowl sir? Can you come, please?" He used his damaged leg as an excuse to draw Prowl away from that berth, away from Jazz, otherwise he might do something he would later regret. Or would he? Surely the two didn't like that they had to hide, but that was a different thing to think about because now was not the time.

"How can I help you Bluestreak?" Prowl asked once he was next to the gunner. The gray mech tried to give a smile but failed.

"I could… keep you posted. Um, you know? On Jazz's condition? Since he is critical and all, I can send you little updates if you would…like that?" Bluestreak's voice grew smaller and smaller under that instance gaze as Prowl just watched him, "Um, of course I-I'll keep you posted on the other soldiers as well –"

"I would much appreciate that, Bluestreak. Thank you." Prowl placed a hand on his shoulder and just like that he left and didn't turn back. Bluestreak knew that if he did, he wouldn't be able to leave.

It was much later that night when Ratchet released him from the med bay with the orders to try and be off the leg as much as he could. To his surprise, he got a call to head to their SIC's office.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Bluestreak asked politely as the door opened. Like he expected, Prowl was still working on his reports this late at night.

The Praxian nodded and moved his work aside, clasping his hands together, observing the gunner.

"Take a seat Bluestreak, I know that you shouldn't be standing much on that leg." Prowl gestured neutrally to one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"Thank you." The gray mech said, as the slight pain in his leg stopped.

To his surprise, after a short silence, Prowl spoke, "How long have you known?"

Bluestreak just flickered his wings dumbly, trying to figure out if he was in trouble or not, but then he simply ex-vented and answered truthfully, "A couple of earth weeks ago I figured it out. You know I like to take pictures and obviously before then I never truly looked at them." He answered and looked hardly at his SIC, his friend, "Because I never saw this." And gently gestured to the other mech.

For a brief moment, Prowl's wings drooped before they regained their regular height. "You know we, Jazz and I, would like to keep this between ourselves?"

"I know how to keep a secret, Prowl." Bluestreak said seriously, but couldn't keep the fond smile off his face as he reached into his subspace and pulled out a small holo-cube and handed it to Prowl, "Turn it on."

Prowl did so, and then lips that were previously held in a thin line, parted, as the ice blue optics of the tactician softened.

"I wish it was of a better quality," Bluestreak started muttering, "But I cut you two out of a picture so that it was just the two of you. I was wondering when to give it to you guys…"

It was a small image capture of Prowl and Jazz on one of the victory parties. The two were near the energon dispenser as Jazz was leaning into Prowl, head tilted back and looking at the Praxian with a fond smile that spoke of adoration and love. The tactician's hands were loosely held around the spy, discreetly in the shadow of the dispenser, a smaller, but equally genuine smile gracing his normally stoic features as the pair optics were locked into each other, the rest of the world irrelevant.

Prowl turned off the cube and drew it nearer, "Thank you, Bluestreak."

"No problem Prowl." The gunner smiled, "After Jazz is released from the med bay, when no one is looking, I might take a real picture of you two."

Prowl nodded, a barely-there smile gracing his face, "I know Jazz would appreciate that."

Bluestreak smiled and left the office, intending to keep that promise and happy that he could be there for his guardians just like they always have been there for him.


End file.
